


Markings

by tikistitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 09:33:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tikistitch/pseuds/tikistitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel gets an anti-possession tattoo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Markings

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this 'cause Mandey likes Sam and Cas.

“It's gonna be all right.”

Cas sat shivering, silent, shirt peeled halfway down his back, uncovering one bare, pale shoulder, ready for the needle.

“I mean,” Dean backtracked, “this shouldn't hurt too bad, getting it on your back like that. But if it hurts, it's OK to yell. Or curse.”

Sam stifled a cough and leaned his long body against one of the tattoo beds, watching his brother and the angel. The ex-angel, he reminded himself. The grace had barely parted his body when Dean dragged them down here, desperately eager to stave away the demons.

Because Sam had failed, he reminded himself. The cough escaped him. He covered his mouth with a wrist.

“Are you all right, Sam?” It was Cas. The fall had diminished his presence. The once commanding voice had picked up a small tremor. His face seemed all taken up by his eyes now, wide and uncertain.

Sam shrugged wide shoulders, forcing a small smile. “I'm fine.”

The tattoo artist had reappeared, face studded with piercings and painted in fierce tribal markings. 

“I'm gonna take off,” Dean told them. “Go get us some coffee and donuts. You want coffee, right, Cas?”

“Leave the coffee 'til I'm done,” the tattoo guy told him. “Don't want 'em shaking while I'm working.”

“Yeah, that would suck.” Dean nodded and fled. The tattoo dude arranged Cas so he was lying down on his belly. Sam took a seat close by, on the other side from the artist. The needle came out. Cas didn't flinch, not one bit, but his eyes flashed, large and wary.

Sam leaned over closer. “It's like Dean said. Stuff is gonna hurt now, I guess. But that's OK.” Cas continued staring straight ahead, every muscle tensed, but he nodded, ever so slightly. Sam nodded too. He sat back and watched as Cas's back bloomed with needle pricks and blood. Cas neither moved nor cried.

Sam looked down, feeling a pressure on the hand he held on his knee. Cas's hand had dropped down there. His long fingers now curled around two of Sam's fingers, the way a small child would hold your hand. Sam silently clamped his large hand around Cas's, holding it tight. And there on the table, Cas relaxed just a fraction, taut muscles releasing.

Dean's timing was artful, bustling in just as the artist was finishing up. “See? That wasn't so bad, right?”

“He didn't say a word,” the tattoo guy told Dean. “The whole time.” They nodded to each other as Dean put a proud hand carefully on Cas's un-marked shoulder. 

“Come on. We'll go grab some breakfast and celebrate. You want pancakes, right?”

Sam let his eyes flick upwards, deciding not to mention Dean's supposed foray for donuts as his brother marched Cas out the door. There were a lot of things they didn't mention.

Dean marched out towards the parking log, but Cas lingered in the doorway a moment. He glanced back at Sam, holding the door open for him. “Are you coming, Sam?”

Sam nodded and walked through the open door, pausing at the threshold. Cas stood, blinking up at him, Sam nearly filling the doorway with his big frame. A very small smile tugged at the edge of Cas's mouth: the first one Sam had seen on him since that terrible night.

“Let's go get pancakes,” Sam told him. And then they were through the door and walking on.


End file.
